


Freudian Slip

by agent_starbuck



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Smut, Sort Of, Tumblr Prompt, Voyeurism, accidental love confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 21:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19303936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_starbuck/pseuds/agent_starbuck
Summary: Tumblr prompt. Scully lets "I love you" slip accidentally. Mutual masturbation in a hotel room... what's not to love?





	Freudian Slip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storybycorey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storybycorey/gifts).



It’s a sound he never expected to hear in the calm whisper of night, moon nestled high against the clouds, over some little cottage town in Maine.

 

He hoped maybe, if he were being honest, but never  _expected_.

 

It’s unmistakable, now that he recognizes it. Though, at first, he thought it was just his ears playing tricks on him in the silence– manufacturing sounds in the absence of nothing– he now knows better.

 

A soft moan trailing the tail-end, sharp intake of breath is what tunes him in, and his heart pounds furiously against his chest. He turns the volume of the TV down to almost zero, ears straining to hear the glorious sound again.

 

It was bound to happen, he thinks. Sooner or later. Especially, with them becoming more and more comfortable around one another whilst on assignment.

 

The adjoining rooms were initially his idea. Born out of a need to make sure he could reach her in time should anything go awry in the middle of the night. Born out of witnessing too many close calls, too many times almost losing her, because of their perilous crusade to find the truth.

 

It had been working fairly well for them, too.

 

Up until a few months ago, there had never been any incidents of professional conduct being violated, no embarrassing or awkward situations which would’ve cast their working partnership in a negative light. They remained professionals, first and foremost.

 

However, years of sleeping in such close proximity, of staying in hundreds of motels cross-country, had made them both a little lackadaisical with maintaining that professional facade.

 

He’d noticed it one night, in particular, when the adjoining door to their room had stayed cracked open, and he caught a tantalizing glimpse of his partner in nothing but a thin, white tank top and the skimpiest pair of “pajama shorts” he’d ever seen. Since when did she start forgoing those oversized, silky pajama sets in exchange for  _that_  little number?

 

_Was she trying to kill him?_

 

He retaliated the next night by knocking on her door after his shower to borrow some toothpaste, wearing only a white towel and a cocky grin. The heated gaze she gave him as she attempted to keep her eyes from crawling across his abs and chest made him shiver in excitement. She was purposefully trying not to stare, doing a rather poor job of executing it, and it was doing wondrous things for his libido.

 

But the real  _oh-shit-moment_  came when she answered the door in just an oversized FBI t-shirt– and nothing else– and he furiously, shamelessly, jacked off to that image for weeks and weeks. He  _still_  thinks of it way more than should be considered healthy, even for a man with such a voracious sexual appetite.

 

It was this dangerous game played between them, however, that prompted the recent and unspoken rule about leaving the door slightly open each night. Neither of them offering an excuse or reason as to why there was a sudden deviation to their hard and fast rule about maintaining that comfortable distance.

 

They both knew why.

 

Another sensual moan pierces the deep darkness of his motel room followed by the audible sound of wet, slick skin against skin.

 

“Mm– Mul–” she hums low, the erotic sound making the blood rush to his groin,  _and when did his hand start massaging himself through his boxers?_

 

“Mulder–  _God_. Iloveyou.” Her words are wrapped up in a desperate, needy gasp, and he almost,  _almost_  misses them. But doesn’t.

 

His hand stills on his cock.

 

He was not expecting  _that_. Not an  _I love you_. Nothing so earnest and heartbreakingly sweet falling from her lips while she was undoubtedly doing unspeakable things with her fingers between her legs. Maybe an  _I need you_ – or if he was really lucky– a  _fuck me_ , but  _I love you_?

 

His heart wrenches in his chest and suddenly his legs are carrying him across the room to the door because he can’t stand not being closer to her. Can’t stand not watching her.

 

A frosty beam of moonlight trickling through the window casts a natural spotlight across her writhing body, and his eyes don’t know where to travel first. There is so much of her on display, parts of her open to his hungry gaze that he’d only previously dreamt about, and his cock twitches at the sight.

 

Her ivory-smooth skin glows in the dewy ambiance of her room. She’s lying on her back, legs spread wide, as her dainty fingers play in the hot slip of her wetness, bottom lip caught between her teeth in concentration. The slow, alluring undulation of her hips as she moves against her hand nearly causes him to black out. Her eyes are screwed tightly shut, a fact he’s silently thankful for, and he watches as her middle finger dances quickly, furiously across her swollen clit. She’s so fucking beautiful he can hardly stand it.

 

He can’t help but reach into his boxers to stroke his throbbing cock begging for attention. He’s as hard as steel. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that witnessing his partner masturbate would be sexier than all the adult videos in his collection combined. He feels slightly perverted for allowing himself to get caught up in such a private moment, but he’s past the point of no return.

 

His hand brushes against a sensitive spot beneath the plush head of his cock and a strangled groan breaks free before he even has a chance to stop it. Her eyes suddenly snap open at the sound, immediately fixing upon his as he stands in the doorway with his hand caught down his underwear.

 

 _Shit_.

 

He’s about to slink back into the shadows of his room– to pretend this never happened– before he realizes the movements between her legs haven’t stopped or even waned at the sight of him watching her. In fact, they’ve only grown more desperate. She doesn’t make an effort to cover herself or conceal her lewd act from him. She just lies there, staring at him, almost daring him to continue as she chases her own pleasure.

 

It’s quite possibly the sexiest thing he’s ever witnessed.

 

Following a hunch and emboldened by her smoldering stare, he pulls the waistband of his boxers down slightly to expose himself as he grips his erection and starts a steady rhythm. Her eyes drift to the hard ridge of him standing at attention between his thighs and she licks her lips– actually licks those plump little lips of hers– and his hand quickens in response.

 

God, he’s so desperate for her. So needy. So  _hard_.

 

One slick pump turns into two, turns into ten, until his hand is a blur against him, and he feels that spark of desire coil low in his abdomen, begging for release.

 

He watches as Scully starts to come apart– her body shuddering in anticipation, throaty gasps leaving her parted lips with increasing intensity.

 

“Mmmm, oh fuck! Mulder!” she cries exquisitely as she comes, her body contorted in a rhapsodical pleasure, and he tumbles over the edge with her, spurting his hot seed into the palm of his hand.

 

“Jeeesus, Scully,” he finally breathes, the rhythm of his hand slowing to a sluggish pace, as his cock softens beneath his grip.

 

They stare at one another breathlessly. Wordlessly. His breath caged in his lungs like a wild animal. He’s afraid to move. To break the rapturous spell her gaze has him under.

 

But he finally does. He reluctantly tucks himself, happy and spent, into the cotton of his boxers, and retreats to his room. He doesn’t close the door and she doesn’t ask him to.


End file.
